


Bloody Diamonds

by TrulyMightyPotato, writtenFIRES



Series: Royal Flush [20]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Assault, Gen, blood mention, insinuations of cheating, insulting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES
Summary: There's a new chief at the precinct, but things don't go as planned.





	Bloody Diamonds

“I would like to thank all of you for coming, in particular those of you who would be enjoying your day off. This is a momentous occasion; not only for your force, but for all of Boston. Today, we shall be instating a new chief of police, and with his guidance hope to cleanse our ranks of the corrupt, the cowardly, and those weak of will, morals, and strength. Men undeserving to carry the badge of our great and noble city.”

Chief Justice Carpett, one of Boston’s political bigwigs and the self-proclaimed financer of Boston’s well-being, of its people, talked a lot. How could a man his age talk for such prolonged periods without getting at least a  _ little  _ winded? It felt like he had been going on for  _ hours _ , even if this part of his little speech sounded like the beginning. 

He did honestly feel bad for those overworked officers who’d dutifully come in when they should’ve been at home with their families and hobbies. Carpett’s sympathies sounded less than genuine, but there was no helping that. He was the big boss, the man in charge; they were required to give him respect.

Like the legal version of a mob boss, MatPat couldn’t help but think bitterly. The man certainly had the power, wealth, and influence of one. The only differences were Carpett had the law on his side, and thus he wasn’t a criminal.

It really depended on who you asked.

“And the women?” A female voice interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“The women. Who also carry badges?  _ Anyone _ is capable of being unfit for duty.”

MatPat hoped his smirk wasn’t too obvious, though he was relatively certain several of his coworkers were just as amused. Irene, a relatively new but excellent addition to the mounted division of their force, was quite the spunky gal. It wasn’t surprising at all to find her taking zero flack from the chief justice. 

The look of gobsmacked disbelief on Carpett’s face was to die for.

“I… of course, of course.  _ And  _ the women.”

“Thank you.” Irene tipped her hat to him, and MatPat was sure the old man would have started sputtering if he wasn’t in public.

Instead, Carpett regained control of the room rather quickly, smoothing down his suit and clearing his throat. 

“As I was saying. Today, we introduce a man to the force with wit, with drive; with the skill and the determination to put a stop to Boston’s crime, once and for all. To prevent massacres of days past; bloody battles and assassinations and the seedy underbelly of Boston who believe they can run our town. No more! Starting today, with the induction of Chief of Police Nathan Sharp, our justice system shall proceed to crush any remaining opposition. Be they Italian, Irish or Russian, they will soon find themselves rotting away in our prisons. Or, preferably, hanging from the end of a short rope.”

Any traces of amusement on MatPat’s face faded as Carpett ushered the new chief of police forward. 

Nathan. 

The man looked so different now—but then, it had been  _ years _ . Time changed people.  _ War  _ changed people. 

Did Nate even remember him? They’d hardly kept in touch since the long days and late nights in the theatre, their closeness torn by war and by distance. The musician had barely even crossed MatPat’s mind since then.

How much of his old friend remained? When had Nathan decided to drop theatre, and when and how had he gotten close enough for Carpett’s recommendation? That was no easy feat.

MatPat furrowed his brow, fingers rising to rest just beneath his bottom lip in thought. It was a real mystery; a conundrum. He could ask Nathan about it, but that might be overstepping his bounds. 

Was it really that big a deal? Should he really be so concerned? 

He was questioning everything as of late, even more so than he used to. After all that happened, after deceit from people he thought he could trust and the consequences of hesitating to arrest Tom, could he hardly be blamed? 

He sighed a bit. At this point, Gar would notice he was thinking too hard and give him a prod, maybe crack a little joke about smoke pouring from his ears....

Gar.

The pensive expression on MatPat’s face slipped away into something more somber. It was April. Gar had been missing for over three months, with no new leads. The trail, what little of it there had been to begin with, was long cold. There’d been no new evidence, no witnesses, no bodies turned up bearing his resemblance—not even a ransom note. Gar was just… gone. 

If he’d been taken by the Faceless somewhere, which seemed likely after what MatPat had discovered about his old friend, they’d done a good job of it.

Stephanie, though...

MatPat closed his eyes, the drone of whatever Carpett and Nathan were saying tuning out at the thought of his beloved wife. His missing wife, still gone, the months crawling by to inch ever closer to a new milestone. 

Her case was the same: cold, nothing new, closed as far as the other officers were concerned. No point in pursuing a lost cause, after all. 

At least with Jason, he’d gotten some kind of closure. He’d known Jason was dead. Gar and Steph, however… they could be  _ anywhere _ . They could be hostages, they could be on the run, they could be getting  _ tortured  _ for all he knew and here he was, safe and healthy and going on about his job as if nothing was wrong.

As if Gar hadn’t been lying to him for months and pretending he was a normal officer.

As if Steph hadn’t been taken from their own home in front of him.

As if Jason hadn’t been murdered.

_ Everything was wrong. _ So many problems, and MatPat had solutions for none of them.

“Matthew?”

MatPat’s eyes snapped open. His head tilted up; he hadn’t even realized he’d ducked it down in response to his dark thoughts. 

When had Nate stepped in front of him? He mustered up a polite smile and, out of habit more than anything, stuck out his hand in greeting.

“Chief Sharp.”

Nate scoffed at the formality while he shook the proffered hand.

“Oh, c’mon. I know we haven’t chewed the rag in a while but there’s no need for that. At least call me Chief Nate if you’re gonna keep my title in there.” He smiled as the handshake ended—a familiar expression; more smirk and mirth than anything.   


MatPat hadn’t realized he’d missed it. Or any familiarity at all, really.

None of his coworkers were the same as Gar or Jason. His few remaining friends didn’t quite match up with his emotional needs, and had their own lives anyway. Welcoming back an old friend—one he’d see on a regular basis—and recognizing certain quirks and mannerisms, it triggered a warmth he hadn’t expected. 

A warmth he’d last felt coming home to Steph with a hot cup of tea waiting for him, or walking into the office to find Gar tucking Dante beneath his desk. 

He hadn’t felt it in such a long time, that it took all his effort to not cry then and there. Instead, he focused on the person standing in front of him. 

“Ha, alright then. Chief Nate it is. Don’t regret it later, because I’m not letting you take it back now.”

“Shock and horror. Think I’ll live.” 

That smile was definitely more of a smirk now, amusement dancing in Nate’s eyes as he playfully shook his head.

“It’s good seeing you again, Matthew. It’ll be the bee’s knees working together again, even if it’s not as…” Nate gestured vaguely at the building around them, eyeing the ceiling a bit, “...charming, as the old theatre used to be.” Then an edge entered his tone and expression. “We’re gonna clean up these streets. No more bribes, no more two-faced cops, no more  _ secrets _ . We’ll get to the rock bottom of Boston’s seedy criminal organizations and scoop’em all into the dump, where they belong.”

MatPat sighed at that, trying to hide his alarm.

“Nate, listen, it’s not…”

Gar was Faceless, sure, but he was still  _ Gar. _ MatPat didn’t know his partner’s reasons for being a detective, not anymore, but he at least had to give him a fair chance to explain himself. He’d earned that from the time they’d spent together, at least. He owed that much to his friend.

And the thought of Gar being in prison, or, worse: set for death row... It didn’t settle with him very well.

“C’mon.” Nate tilted his head up, shooting MatPat a critical look, the corner of his mouth twitched up in a challenge. “I’ve heard from Carpett—from a lot of people, actually—that you’re the best detective in the force. I know you’ve got a sharp mind, and you’ve always been one for justice getting served. You can’t tell me this city’s got you scared.”

Shadows seeped into MatPat’s eyes and he looked away, darkness clouding his expression.

“Scared isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

This city had taken Jason from him. It had taken Steph. It had taken Gar. This city had taken everything and everyone MatPat had loved, and he was the only one who cared. It might as well take him.

Nate frowned. He’d probably been expecting a much different reaction. He opened his mouth, but before he could get another word out, there was someone calling his name from across the room.

“Chief Sharp! Come over here, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.” Carpett gave a little wave, clearly not willing to take “no” for an answer.

It was Nate’s turn to sigh. He spared MatPat another worried look. 

“We’ll talk later, alright?”

Not waiting for a response, he headed off to Carpett, leaving MatPat to his gloomy thoughts and doubts.

He huffed out a breath. No use standing around feeling sorry for himself. He’d never get any work done that way; be it assigned cases or his own personal ventures. 

The department might have given up on Gar and Steph, but MatPat hadn’t. He would find them—or their corpses—or he would die trying. 

He turned and headed for his office. Maybe he could revisit the crime scene, comb the area for clues just  _ one more time _ . The snow had entirely thawed now, and with the heavy rains perhaps something had been washed into view-

“Personally, I’m glad we finally got a new chief in. Maybe now we can get the riff raff out of here, and not have to worry about anyone shooting us in the back.”

“Right, or makin’ us disappear.”

MatPat slowed some at that, shifting his mind’s focus to what his ears were picking up. In his peripheral, he noticed several officers grouped together, no doubt chatting about the proceeding they’d just witnessed. However, it was the Irishman, O’Donnell, who caught his attention with his precise choice of words. He wasn’t sure if they’d noticed him eavesdropping yet, but if they had, it didn’t stop them from gossiping.

“Oh, come off it.”

“No, really. Listen. There’s been disappearances all around tha damn city, right? Even our own boys aren’t safe. Yeh know that detective-”

“Patrick?”

How good to know MatPat’s potential in life had been reduced to “that detective.”

“Yeah, he’s tha one. Y’know his first partner was bumped off, mysterious circumstances.”

“I thought they said it was just bad alcohol, or something of the like. Man was a boozehound.”

MatPat’s blood boiled at that, but he kept his nerve, wanting to hear what O’Donnell had to say. By now he was used to hearing his first partner slandered with all manner of derogatory labels.

“Yeah, yeah, but there were rumors’a foul play yeh know. An’ then, his new partner, he up an’ vanishes!”

“I thought they said  _ he _ got murdered. Just like all the other sorry saps out that night.”

Oh, were those the rumors? Funny how they’d decided that when MatPat was the only one out looking for Gar.

“Maybe he was chilled. Or maybe not. Maybe, it’s an odd coincidence that ol’ Patrick lost not one, but  _ two’a  _ his partners. He still needs a replacement. Personally, ‘m not volunteerin’. Will his new partner go tha way’a Parker or Bluemoon?”

“I mean…”

“Would  _ you  _ work with’im?” O’Donnell was quick to question, and his skepticism was rewarded.

“No.”

“Exactly. On top’a that, tha man’s lost other things. Like that wife o’ his.”

MatPat bristled.  _ Steph?  _ He was honestly bringing  _ Stephanie  _ into this? And he called her a  _ thing? _

His fists clenched at his sides, but he maintained a steady queue of deep, calming breaths. Steph wouldn’t want him to go about decking his coworkers and getting into trouble, even if it was to defend her honor. This job, the thrill of the hunt, it meant too much to him. He  _ needed  _ the tools at his disposal here; needed the authority. 

Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t seem to be quite finished.

“Wasn’t she kidnapped? That’s what Patrick said.”

“Exactly! Tha’s what  _ he  _ says. That’s all tha word we got ta go on,  _ his _ .”

“But Bluemoon and Static were there-”

“They got there  _ after  _ it all went down! They found’im, an’ he told’em. Look. All I’m sayin’ is, it’s suspicious. First one partner  _ dies _ , then his wife goes missin’, an’ then his next partner jus’ up an’ vanishes too?”

Another surge of anger at that. MatPat had reason to question Gar’s honesty and motives, yes, but nobody else knew Gar was Faceless. O’Donnell had  _ no reason _ to be slandering Gar like that.

“You can’t mean to say you think  _ he  _ did something....”

“No, maybe not. But I don’t think he’s bein’ entirely truthful wit’ us. I think he’s tryin’ ta cover his arse, is what.”

“O’Donnell.”

“No, really! What would they go an’ kidnap’er fer? Why leave’im alive if it was a break-in? Why’re only his  _ partners  _ bein’ bumped off an’ disappearin’? It doesn’t add up. Personally, with tha wife, I gotta wonder if she was catchin’ onta somethin’...”

He couldn’t be serious.

“You can’t be serious.” The other officer echoed MatPat’s thought.

“‘S a possibility! Maybe she’s fine. Maybe she jus’ decided ta take off, an’ he was too embarrassed ta admit it. Coulda been runnin’ in fear, coulda wanted outta tha marriage, maybe she even decided ta find herself a daddy.”

“I think you’re taking this shit on a stretch now…”

Breathe. Breathe. MatPat just had to breathe. He couldn’t allow his emotions to get the best of him. It was all just idiotic speculation and grapevine assumptions. O’Donnell didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. No one was taking him seriously. It was fine. It was  _ fine _ .

“ _ Or  _ maybe she got real tired’a tha whole thing and went lookin’ fer a  _ sugar dadd- _ ” O’Donnell didn’t have a chance to complete that sentence, because MatPat’s fist was finding its way deep into his face.

MatPat had  _ tried  _ to be the bigger man, to take the high road, truly he had. But that was simply the final straw. He would  _ not  _ allow anyone to accuse his wife of being harlot, a quiff. Steph wasn’t perfect, but she had her standards and her morals, and she  _ loved  _ MatPat. To even suggest simple unsatisfaction with their marriage—something that didn’t even  _ exist _ —would lead to her flying loose and abandoning him… that was unforgivable. He wouldn’t hear another word of it.

The punching itself was merely a culmination of months of stress and paranoia and living on-edge, wondering who would be ripped from his grasp next or if he’d find a gun aimed at his head around the next corner. Emotional duress poured out in the form of unchecked aggression and he was on top of O’Donnell (who was hardly a small man) pounding away at him with a reckless abandon. 

Fortunately, or not, his rampage didn’t last long, as two men were quick to pull him off. There was shouting and cries for calm and order—and O’Donnell, who was tightly covering his nose with both hands while he cursed MatPat. 

He knew he should feel regretful, or guilty, but all that filled him was a grim satisfaction at the fact he may have broken the Irishman’s nose.

“Patrick! Detective Patrick, that’s enough!”

“Stop already, enough; he’s had enough! You got him!”

MatPat didn’t argue with the order, didn’t deign to say anything to O’Donnell, and didn’t struggle against the officers holding him back. He merely glowered at O’Donnell, his expression dark and promising another dose of punching if he were to talk that way around MatPat again.

When Carpett and Nate walked up, his gaze left the bloodied man on the floor, but he didn’t meet their eyes. He didn’t want to focus on their inevitable disappointment and disapproval. 

They didn’t know. They had _ no idea  _ what it was like, what he was going through, so how  _ dare  _ they judge him? How  _ dare  _ they take a side in this?

Irrational- he was being _irrational_ , Steph would say, and _irresponsible,_ Jason would say, and _reckless,_ Gar would say; he just couldn’t bring himself to care. No one cared. No one ever cared about _them_ , so why should he care about _this?_

“Detective Patrick, what is the meaning of this? Have you lost your mind? Attacking another officer, inside the station no less! With zero provocation-” Carpett was quick to jump on the scene, the old windbag, not having much patience for MatPat ever since that awful night when he hesitated to arrest Thomas Fischbach. The justice’s pride had been hurt even worse when Felix Kjellberg, of all people, came to bail the judge out. Unable to take out his frustrations on either of them, he was quite content with shoving his woes onto the only other person related to the incident.

“Excuse me, chief justice. As the new chief of police, I can handle this. Not that I don’t appreciate your insight….” Nate eyed MatPat with that same critical gaze from earlier. Something about that gaze unsettled MatPat, but he’d take whatever lecture Nate had for him over Carpett’s rantings any day.

Carpett, though obviously miffed at being halted, apparently hosted enough faith in his newly appointed police chief to back down. His expression remained grim and disdainful while he scowled at MatPat, but when he spoke, it wasn’t to the detective. 

“Very well. I’ll let this be your very first act of duty, then. See to it proper procedures are taken.” He tugged lightly at the hem of his jacket, straightening it out. “I’m due back at the courthouse.”

“Of course. Have a pleasant day, sir.” Nate nodded his head to Carpett, several officers echoing the sentiment before the man left out the front doors. Nate’s eyes shifted back to MatPat with a frown. “Alright, let him go. I don’t think he’s going to be anymore trouble.”

The officers on MatPat were clearly hesitant, but eventually obeyed. Nate had been correct. Once they let go of him, MatPat dropped to a knee and continued staring at the ground.

“And for god’s sake, someone get him cleaned up.” Nate gestured to O’Donnell where the man still sat on the floor, clutching at his bleeding nose. “MatPat. With me, to my office. Please.” His tone conveyed that he’d have MatPat brought along forcefully if need be, but he’d prefer to avoid that.   


MatPat decided to avoid the embarrassment, and rose to his feet with a deep breath before shuffling along behind Nate. The chief’s office was bare, seeing as the old chief’s wife had come to collect his belongings. It would no doubt show Nate’s personal touch soon enough, but for now the sparsity made their conversation feel more like an interrogation. 

MatPat slumped heavily into the chair before the big, oak desk while Nate slid into his own behind it with a sigh.

“Mat…”

“He was bad-mouthing Steph.”

And Gar. And Jason. And MatPat himself. Really, he had it coming.

Nate combed fingers through his dark hair. “Your wife, right?”

MatPat nodded sullenly. His stomach was still twisting at the words O’Donnell had used, and he was starting to wish he’d used something more than his fist. He must have been glaring a hefty hole through Nate’s new desk, because the chief’s voice was sharp when he spoke again.

“ _ Matthew _ .” Nate folded his hands on the desk. “MatPat, you know what I’m going to have to do…”

The detective sat up a bit stiffer in his chair.

Nate scowled, his eyebrows scrunching. “I don’t have a  _ choice _ , Mat. You punched another officer, in front of a dozen witnesses. In front of  _ Carpett _ . Have you gone off the rails? How could I possibly write that off? I just got this job, MatPat, and he’d have my ass out the door again in a minute-”

“Listen Nate, I wasn’t going to just  _ stand there  _ while he slandered my wife, knowing full well I could hear every word!”

“It’s awful, MatPat; I know it! I know. He was wrong, it was balled up. But  _ you  _ hit  _ him _ . In the eyes of the law, and everyone in that room, that puts  _ you  _ in the wrong here. I don’t have another option.”

“Nate-”

“I’m going to have to give you a suspension.”

MatPat’s jaw clenched.

“Be happy I’m not asking for your badge. I could. In fact, I  _ should _ —it’s probably what Carpett wants me to do. But I have some wiggle room, so I’m going to cut you a favor.”

“A  _ favor _ ? You call this a favor?” That, he hadn’t been expecting to hear.

“Compared to  _ losing your job _ ? Yes. You’re a good detective, MatPat—or so I’ve heard. We  _ need you _ . I’m not trying to lose good men before we do a complete crime hunting overhaul on this city.” Nate gave him a critical look. “But you need some time to cool off. Just… get yourself put back together. I’ll give your current cases to the other detectives and if they’re still ongoing when you get back, I’ll consider letting you pick them up again. Or I might have a new assignment for you. But  _ only  _ if you get your act together. Got it?” Nate stared MatPat dead in the eye.

Was it the war that had instilled this new ferocity and determination in Nate? Or had something else caused it? 

Again, he felt that chill, like Nate would bulldoze straight through him with not even an ounce of hesitation. 

He scowled, muscles tense and expression tight, and Nate shifted in his seat as if ready to leap up; to brawl with him then and there.

“Fine. Alright.”

“You got it?”

“I got it.” MatPat exhaled heavily from his nose. “I got it.”

“Good. You can keep your badge. But I don’t want you stepping foot inside this station, or doing any sort of police work, for the next two weeks. You’ll still get your pay, but no overtime.” Nate opened up a drawer in the desk, digging out a pen and thumbing through files for the paperwork he’d need. “And you’re paying any hospital fees O’Donnell gets.”

Honestly, he was being more generous than anyone else would have been. Was this old friendship speaking? Or was it Nate trying to win MatPat over, when the time came for his crime overhaul?

“Fine.” 

Nate pulled the form out and slid it across the desk, laying a pen and a bottle of ink beside it. MatPat had never been suspended before, only put on leave, but he knew the drill. He had to sign his consent, acknowledge that he’d acted unlawfully, and was being punished for it. He did so, albeit grudgingly and with far more force than was strictly necessary.

Nate accepted the paperwork back.

“Thank you.” 

MatPat stood and went to walk out—he had a lot of nothing to do at home now, after all—only to pause when Nate sighed.

“Matthew.”

The detective looked over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything; he merely waited expectantly. He swore Nate almost looked apologetic—wouldn’t that be nice.

“Take care of yourself.”

MatPat didn’t even bother responding. He left the office, slamming the door closed behind him, mind swirling with dark clouds and crackling lightning. Police work. Well, it didn’t count as police work if the police considered the cases  _ closed _ now, did it?


End file.
